Memoirs of Ron Bromley

4 Preparing for War

The medical was very thorough, no less than 8 different people to
see, dentist, optician, as well as doctors. The doctor testing
urine was writing up his notes when I was second in line. He said to
the chap in front of me "just urinate in that receptacle". "What?"
After three attempts he said,
"Oh, just piss in that pot." "Eh - can't go." "Just wait." "Can't stop."
"Nurse, bring a bucket". When the nurse appeared the poor chap swung
around and sprayed the doctor and all his papers. It was then I heard
for the first time a phrase that became very popular for a time "Some
mothers do have 'em". I passed A1 and awaited my call up. Imagine my
surprise and disgust to find I was posted to Shorncliff camp not more
that 5 miles from my home.

I arrived early on the Saturday, together with a lad from Folkestone -
one Charlie Swain. We were met by a Sgt Elliot, who was to become my
Squad Sgt, who showed us what was to be our temporary quarters as our
huts were not ready. They were brick single-storey huts that had last
been used as officers' quarters in 1923. The ivy was puller off the
wall and the shutters opened and that was that. Some rooms still had
the marble topped wash stands used by the officers. Later we were
disgusted to read in the "Evening News" that the militia at Shornecliffe
were lucky, their quarters were not ready so they were temporarily
housed in the Officers' Mess.

The main body were expected to arrive on a special train from London
later in the day, so Sgt Elliot took us
into the NAAFI to pass the time. the place was full of reservists - all
called up for training and having nothing else to do on a Saturday
morning but hang around the NAAFI! Two people were on the dart board
and taking on all comers. It seemed the drill was you remained on the
board until knocked off. These two were taking a light ale or 4d from
everyone until they ran out of challengers. They looked at Charlie and
me and without consulting, just looking at each other, we took them on.
The throw was nearest middle for starters. The opposition got 25, but
Charlie followed with a 50. We remained on the board all that session,
in fact in the 7 weeks or so until war broke out we were only beaten
once. I discovered that Charlie was either the winner or runner-up of
the SE division of the News of the World national contest. I was only
average, but I played on the 19s and Charlie on the 20s, and this
combination is very useful in doubles play.

The whole day was pretty relaxed. Once we were all assembled we were
allocated to a Sgt. We were divided into four squads of 30 men each. Sgt
Elliot took our 30 and pointed out our bed spaces and issued us with three
blankets and "two sheets". We were then given a meal and then addressed
by the Colonel. He told us we were attached to his Regiment for training.
The 22 Field Regt was up to full strength, mostly reservists, and if the
"balloon went up" we would be sent elsewhere to continue our training.
How right he was to be. We were then allowed out - still in out civilian
clothes. I went into Folkestone and bumped into a barmaid I had said a
fond farewell to just a few days before.

Sunday was spent in the issue of equipment. Everything down to I think
a toothbrush. Certainly a clothes brush (which I still have), boot brushes
and a tin of boot polish. We were shown how to burnish the toe caps of our
army boots - plenty of polish and a hot spoon to start with. It was
surprising how enthusiastically one carried out this stupid task; everyone
trying to get the best shine. Perhaps it was the army's way of reducing
everyone to a common denominator so to be better able to instil in us the
elements of soldiering and war.

Our battle dress was of superior cloth, not quite officer quality but
almost. I kept mine throughout my service. Plenty of polish and blanco, but
fortunately we did not have much cause to use it as most of the time we
wore boiler suits. PT was an exception. When everyone had been issued we
were shown the highly polished floor at the entrance of the NAAFI and told
we had to have our quarters looking like that in, I think, three weeks.
It was an awesome task; when all the dirt had been scrubbed away the
grain of the wood was exposed to some depth. This was filled with a
thick coating of polish covered with newspaper and left overnight to
harden. Then a bumper, a heavy weight inside a thick cloth, was pushed
up and down on the end of a broomstick. This was done daily until a
reasonable surface was obtained. After that it meant everyone doing his
own bed space each day with the bumper.

Needless to say that soon after, our own billets were ready and as they
were left by the builders in an even worse state than our first abode, the
whole process started again. Trust the army to manage things thus.

Life was quite easy for me. I had my share of square bashing at school
in the cadets, and as for the parts of a rifle I knew them all from tip to
butt. "Tip of the butt, head of the butt, butt plate, butt trap", etc, etc.
Things were taken very slowly as we were below average intelligence. Many
of the age group had their call-up deferred. University graduates,
articled pupils, apprentices serving indentures,
carpenters, bricklayers, etc, so we were left with a high percentage of
unemployed, seasonal workers, "stop me and buy one" ice cream salesmen
with their three-wheeled bicycles. One was a "busker" playing to theatre
queues in London, a deck-chair attendant, a plumber's mate from Tunbridge
Wells, whose every forth word began with the letter F. He did not know
many long words, but these he would split up and insert the dreaded 'F'
word. I had first hand experience as he was in my room and in my gun crew.

One poor fellow was un-coordinated and could manage very little. One
good move he could make was to shoulder arms, but alas he always got the
rifle on the wrong shoulder. When he marched he always swung the right arm
with the right leg. A born sanitary orderly but a thoroughly nice chap. I
met him after the war in a small brickworks, happily barrowing bricks into
the kiln and then out again, stacking them for collection. One man arrived
three days late between two military policemen. He could not, or would not,
do anything, in spite of individual tuition. I heard later he had been
discharged as unfit for military service. A well-planned ruse? I did
wonder. For gun drill we had 25-pounders. Mounted on two large wheels, they
would be towed behind a vehicle at normal speeds. There were 7 or 8 men
per gun crew, but only three needed to have any brains. The No 1 who was
in charge and relayed the orders to the remainder; No 2 who set the range
and fired the gun; No 3 had to manage the dial sight which set the line
on which the gun fired. Our gun was No 1 gun, right of the line. I was
No 1 with two excellent men at No 2 and 3. We soon established ourselves
as being the slickest of the 16 guns and were always pushed forward to
give demonstrations to visiting generals, etc. It was a good day out
from London to have a look at the sea and pay a visit to the 22 Field Regt.
There was a temporary hitch when it was decreed that we must change
numbers so that all would be able to do all duties. Chaos resulted, but
I devised a plan. We lined up behind the gun to "tell off" and move round
to new positions. When we received the order "Take post" we would run
round for a bit to confuse and then take up our original positions. This
scheme was short-lived. I was given a message from the Colonel via the
Sgt, "If I'm bright enough to spot it, one of the visiting generals would,
given time, so cut it out."

I came up against the CO (Col. Ambrose Pratt) a bit later on. Every
Friday we had fish for lunch and it was always stinking and quite unfit
to eat. One Friday we refused to move from the cookhouse until we were
given something we could eat. No-one could move us, the orderly sergeant,
orderly officer, sergeant major. While this was going on, the CO passed
by in mufti exercising his dog. As we were still in the cookhouse (or dining
room) he came in to enquire what was going on. Mouthy me was on my feet at
the time and he asked if I was making the complaint on my own behalf or for
everyone. "Everyone Sir." His reply was to the effect that is was a good job
we were not at war yet, otherwise it would be mutiny and he could have me
shot. He then tried his dog with the food and it was refused. He then told
the NCO in charge to give us the "Tea element" (our tea - cheese, tomato
and beetroot) and he would arrange to have other rations provided for tea.
He solved the problem by posting the Sgt in charge of the main mens' mess
to our cookhouse. He thus received all food at our establishment, took
out what he wanted to feed us, and the rest went to the main mess where
the bad food got mixed with some of the good.

After about three or four weeks all training suddenly stopped. In the
middle of the night we were got out of bed and told to pack all our kit
(why do all panics in the army always happen at night?). As we boarded the
trucks
we were each given five live rounds of ammunition. We were taken to Dover
where we were split into small groups and positioned at the entrance to
all railway tunnels leading into the port. We climbed over or through
fences to gain access. I knew exactly our position, at the top of Templar
Street, because on one of the milk rounds (which Frank and I had to help
on when men went on holiday) the only house we served in that area was 10
Templar. The night passed quickly and at first light I walked through the
tunnel which was quite short and reached Dover Priory Station where I had
a wash and shave in the loos. After each man had got cleaned up and the
restaurant was opened we enjoyed a cup of tea and a piece of the famous
railway cake eh!

I had the idiot boy with me, who was caught trying to load his gun from
the muzzle. Stupidly, someone loaded it for him. What did he do that night?
He shot at the visiting officer. No warning, no procedure, just bang.
Fortunately he missed and I withdrew his remaining four rounds.

I was then withdrawn to HQ, Dover Marine Station. This was an enclosed
area, as well as the railway terminal it included point of embarkation
etc for the cross channel boats, also customs and immigration depts. To
get to the tunnels or into the town meant the awful business of going
through customs each time. To avoid this, my pal Norman and I were put in
charge of a side gate so we could avoid the bother of customs etc.

It seemed war was inevitable and everyone was flocking back from the
Continent including long term residents. Instead of the one or two cars
on each ferry there were very many and this caused chaos in customs and
immigration with queues of cars stretching right along the whole length
of the pier.

Everyone was very fed up with the delay. Norman or I would pick a car
owner more agitated than most and we would tell him to follow us. Remember
we were in uniform with a rifle. He was taken round the corner out of sight
and when the necessary paper money had changed hands our gate was unlocked
and he was away. I don't know if we let in any spies but we were much too
naive to think about that and the term "fifth column" (from the Spanish
Civil War) was not general knowledge.

About the end of August [1939] we returned to Shornecliffe where on Sept 3
we heard PM Chamberlain broadcast that we were at war with Germany. This
was followed by an Air Raid warning and we went to the shelters. It turned
out to be a false alarm, but it was the only time I went into an Air Raid
shelter throughout the war. Ambrose Pratt immediately went off to become
CRA (Corps Commander Royal Artillery 1st Corps). These were the first
troops to go to France. The 22 Field Regt did not want to be impeded by
the Militia so we were disbanded. Eight of us went to Larkhill (Salisbury
Plain) to train as Surveyors, half of the remainder to Dover to learn
signalling, and the remainder also to Dover to train as ordinary gunners.
At the Survey Training Regt at Larkhill it was chaos. New regiments being
formed, men posted in, men posted out. To try and keep an account of
numbers we paraded every morning and the permanent staff moved down the
lines taking everyone's name, number and religion; the latter seemed
important and I found out the reason later. After this and a little marching
up and down we were dismissed, and that was that for the day. The whole
thing to be repeated on the morrow. At these parades you were asked if anyone
knew anything about theodolites, trigonometry, logs, etc. One raised arm
and you found yourself posted to a regiment bound for France. I remained
silent, and after exhausting my knowledge of the various religions I one
morning
decided to remain in the billet and read the paper until the NAFFI opened.
(NAAFI is a kind of pub for the troops where you could buy drinks and food
and play darts and billiards). Who should walk in but a brand new Sgt
Major. You could tell he was new by the way he swung his arms to display
his bright new badges on his lower arm. I was asked what I was doing.
"Billet Orderly, Sir". He was not to be fooled. On spotting my Lance
Bombardier's stripes he said "Since when have we had non-commissioned
officers as billet orderlies? Name - look on orders this evening." This
I did to find I had been appointed in charge of the NAAFI for the next
fortnight. Not in charge of the serving girls, but opening and closing
times, cleaning and general discipline. On duty from 5:30 am until 11:00
pm, worse than being on "jankers". My first job was to get four reservists
out of bed to clean up the place from the night before. As soon as this
was done, Costain workmen came in for breakfast with their muddy boots;
they were building on site. They arrived in buses each day with clean
shoes; why they had to change into dirty boots before coming in I will
never know. Clean up again, and again when the place closed at 2:00 pm.
I knew I would never see them if I let them go until next morning when
I got them out of bed. They would say that they had been "grabbed" by
another NCO so could not come to clean up. I solved this by locking them
into an upstairs room until after the two o'clock clear up was done. My
next task at 6:30 am was to get the duty driver with his truck and go to
the old garrison church. This was a large tin hut being used to house
ATS girls and I
was to collect 14 cooks to prepare the breakfast for the whole of the camp.
Being a well trained Militia boy, I expected to see 14 well-dressed girls
lined up, waiting for me to give the order to load up. Not a person in
sight. I opened half of the Gothic type door and went inside. It was
first light and I could just see one girl who said "Looking for the cooks?
First seven down each side," and there they were, still in bed. There was
nothing for it but to pull down the clothes and slap the first part of
the anatomy that came into sight. Some were tastefully dressed in
pyjamas or nighties, some had their "army bafflers", khaki knickers
with elastic top and bottom, some had nothing at all; one bed was empty
and one had two in it; I was learning fast. I told Busty Ellis the driver
about it on the way back. We was quite excited and asked if he could get
them up the next day. I said yes, but nothing about the revolting smell
as the place had been sealed up all night on account of the blackout.
Busty enjoyed his new role. If he noticed the smell he said nothing.
After that I left him to carry on each day and having found one of the
cleaners I thought I could trust I gave him the keys to the NAAFI and
for the rest of the fortnight remained in bed until breakfast. At the
end of the period the pay Sgt tried to get me to pay for damages which
he said occurred while I was in charge. Fortunately I had foreseen something
like this and had obtained from the Sgt major a signed statement of
damage existing before I took over so I thus refused to augment the pay
packet of the clever little pay Sgt.

With some more of my pals from Shornecliffe (my special pal Norman
included) we were formed into a squad to train in Survey and Sound Ranging.
We had a rather corrupt Sgt Instructor which turned out to be to our
advantage. We had driving instruction, and I was made an instructor for
lorries. We did not cover many miles as I was instructed to drive to a
farm on the plain. There under a haystack I would find empty petrol cans
which I was to fill up siphoning petrol from the lorry. I then disconnected
the speedo cable and completed the vehicle log sheet to roughly correspond
in mileage to the petrol "consumed" and endorse the sheet "speedo not
working". We then retired
to the nearest cafe for the remainder of the session. This was beneficial
to us as the grateful Sgt would sometimes use some of his ill-gotten
petrol by picking some of us up at Salisbury when we returned from London
on the "paper" train at about 2:30 am. We also passed our trade test to
become qualified Sound Rangers at the first attempt. This meant our daily
pay was increased from two shillings to three and threepence. Each week
I drew £1 for my week's spending and 2/9 went into my credit. Strange
as it seems today, £1 was adequate. It was the equivalent of 60 pints
of beer.

At some time we ceased to be Militia and became part of the Royal
Artillery with the rank of "Gunner", the equivalent of a "Private", the
lowest rank. I lost my stripe as an unpaid NCO and became subject to
fatigues rather than being in charge. One nasty one was coal fatigue
in the officers' quarters. The young officers' wives were just awful and
had us doing all sorts of jobs, "empty the ash bins, bring in the coal,
stoke the boiler", etc. It dragged on into the afternoon when puffing
and blowing on the Battery bicycle the Battery orderly appeared. He
and I got on very well; his name was Sidebottom, but he liked to be called
"Siddy-bottoome", so I addressed him as such whereas others called him
"old side arse". He was thus keen to find me with a message that the
colonel wanted to see me at 3:00 pm. I said it was impossible even if
I ran all the way back. The only solution was for me to have the bicycle
and he should walk back. This he agreed and I just made the interview
but I had little time to smarten up. The interview was not going at all
well. I was kept standing at attention, and the colonel's huge dogs
were sniffing at my heels. I was pleased I had not been at the cook
house, as should they have sniffed blood instead of coal dust I swear
they would have eaten me.

It was then that two magic words set me on a course for my army
career. When asked what my father did, I replied "Farmer, Sir". The
whole atmosphere changed. The dogs were called off and I was stood at
ease. Then followed an animated conversation on the respective merits
of Shorthorns and Frisian cattle. I did not think it necessary to point
out that my father's little cabbage patch in Kent would be lost on
the colonel's three thousand acre estate down in Dorset. The conclusion
was "Look on orders." There I was pleased to see I had been posted
for "Officer Training". Not at any old OCTU, but to our Colonel's
exclusive Survey OCTU. I merely had to change
billets, where I was pleased to find many of my friends including
Norman. We were D Squad and the first to be formed of "other ranks".
The first three squads were from the OCTUs of Oxford, Cambridge and
London Universities.
We wanted to be noticed so we devised a little plan. In the Militia
our walking out dress was grey flannel trousers, black blazer, black
tie and beret to be worn with a khaki shirt and army boots. Colonel Pratt
did not like it at all and instructed Burtons at our first fitting to
take them away and not hurry back with them. We were thus permitted to
wear our own mufti when off duty, whilst at Shorncliffe.

On leaving we were handed them in a parcel to be changed
at Larkhill for a second battle dress. The Quartermaster Sgt did not like
Militia boys so he said he had no battle dress and issued us with
second-hand brass buttoned tunics which we never wore. Having polished the
buttons to sparkle we wore them on our first parade. The look of disgust
on everyone's face was a joy to behold. We were rushed into the stores
where surprisingly enough there were piles of battle dresses. Moreover,
we were allowed to try them on for size rather than have the quartermaster
shout out "3 top 4 bottom" as we walked past to have them thrown at us
by his assistant.

Life was very easy, we were qualified in survey and either "flash
spotting" or "sound ranging". So all that remained was "how to be an
officer", etc.
Twice a week some dear old colonel came along to tell us about uniform,
equipment, etc, details of joining our first regiment and how to write
to the Adjutant. Our visiting cards must be engraved, not printed, and
the prefix to our name was "Mr" and not "Lieut". How long after joining
your unit before you deliver your card to the CO's wife, etc. We could
never find out his name so we called him "the buck shee colonel". On
passing out we had dinner at a hotel in Salisbury and invited all the
officer instructors. Some came, including the buck shee colonel. Nigel
(an architect) and I prepared a menu card of which I had 27 copies done
at the Council Offices in Salisbury. The back was left blank for
everyone to sign his name. Now we will find out the colonel's name. He
however had his ear to the ground and he signed all our menus "The buck
shee colonel".

The next day we were told we had no postings as some bow and arrow
blimp at the War Office had decided no more Survey Rgts were to be
formed. We were all sent on indefinite leave until postings were obtained.
I can not remember exact dates but I know I was a cadet on my Christmas
leave 1939 as I told Dad I must have a bank account before the end of
my leave. I drove him to the Westminster in Dover where we were waved
past the counter straight into the Manager's office. He knew everything,
when I would get my first pay cheque, uniform allowance, etc.
"I think a starting balance
of £40 will be adequate, Mr Bromley," and thus I became the proud
possessor of a bank account. Details of this I handed in on my first
posting and everything worked smoothly from then on. About the only
thing in the Army which did, fortunately. A short time on we received
a complete list of our postings. We had been split into groups of four
and posted to four other OCTUs.

I was one of the top four on the passing out list and we were posted
to the 121 OCTU at Aldershot. Peter Moody, our top man, did not come
as he remained at Larkhill as an instructor. A second, Michael, was soon
posted to a Jewish Regt, so it left Pat Tucker and me.

We were given nothing to do; we used the mess for eating and sleeping.
We spent the time around the town, or playing squash. We joined the
officers' sailing club and Pat taught me to sail on a large lake.

I am not good on dates, but I have found a list of the postings dated
4th May 1940. My personal number being 130266 was the third I had
received in my short time in the army. My Militia number was 10075010
and my other ranks on transfer from the Militia to the Royal Artillery
(sometime about Oct 1939) 135166.

Our lazy time did not last long. I was sent for by a Major Siggars
(later to become a general). He gave me a map, a map reference, and a
plan of a tented camp. I was to go to the map reference, there I would
meet a Sgt Major with 20 or 30 recruits. I also found enough canvas
to build the camp. The Sgt Major tried to assume command "We will start
at this end and work through". "No, no, I responded, a waste of manpower
in so large a group. We will split in two and start at each end and
meet in the middle." He replied "But, but I must show you how to erect
the tents". I had plenty of experience in the school cadet corps so
we proceeded my way. What he thought of a kid officer taking over I don't
know, but my team pleased to be free of the Sgt Major put their backs
into it and we finished well ahead of his party. At one point he sent
one of his men to ask me if I knew the difference between a "store tent"
and a "marquee", and I was able to enlighten him. On completion, the
arrival of Major Siggers with one other officer and a few men almost
coincided with the first batch of evacuees from Dunquerke (Dunkirk).
They were a "rabble", no command, no discipline, all they wanted was to
go home, like a lot of lost school children; some in fact were crying.
They had thrown away their rifles in France, which was probably just as
well as we were armed and could thus enforce a little discipline. They
were very bitter on account of the RAF providing no cover and one RAF
boy, who somehow got mixed in, had to be confined to the guard room for
his own protection. I began to feel grateful for having the Home Guard.

Our job was to register each one, feed and issue essential things,
washing kit, essential clothing, etc. Then once we had a reasonable group,
say of "Green Howards", we would put them on rail for their headquarters.
The Buffs to Canterbury, the West Surrey Rgt to Guildford, etc. If they
had any equipment, rifle etc, this was collected and sent to "Ordnance"
for redistribution. It really was pathetic. Hitler could have walked all
over us at this point. As the troops that had been nearer to the front
line arrived, morale and discipline improved but it was not until General
Alexander's Guardsmen that had fought the rearguard action that we saw
true soldiers. I had always imagined guardsmen as Buckingham Palace
sentries. Our last intake was the last to leave Dunkerque. The time was
approx 2:00 am and when asked who they were everyone clicked their heels
and replied "Guards, Sir". They were commanded by a Warrant Officer 1st
class - they had lost all their officers - Mr Green (never call a WO 1st
class "Sgt Major", always Mr). He stood 6ft 6in in his stockinged feet,
and he was in his stockinged feet as he had kicked off his boots the
better able to swim out to the last ship to leave towing his wounded
companion. All the men had picked up an additional rifle on the beach.
This was fortunate for me as it meant I collected some equipment without
prejudicing my safety by attempting to part a guardsman from his rifle.
When registration was completed, Mr Green asked when was first parade.
I told him we had no parades but breakfast will begin at 09:00 hrs in
a store tent which I pointed out to him. Before time he had inspected
all his men and the walls of their bell tents were rolled up, an
unheard-of thing in the camp.

Later that morning I put up a "terrible black". They were being fitted
out in the stores with essentials when the storeman said to me "The WO
takes size 14 in boots and we haven't any." I replied "That's simple,
just give him two size 7s." The look Mr Green gave me, it expressed
"Oh where, oh where do they get Artillery officers?". I sent a special
messenger into Aldershot to get him a pair of size 14s.

I cannot remember the camp breaking up. The next thing I can recall
is joining up with the 16 who were at Larkhill as cadets together with
the next group to pass out, E Troop, at Filey in Yorkshire. We had been
collected together at 125 OCTU to train (as they said) to be real
Gunners and not Surveyors. The CO, Col Sebag Montifiore, did not seem
a bad chap, just a "pistol in each hand and a sword in the other" type
of fellow. In his talk he spoke highly of anti-tank gunnery and if
anyone on completion of the course applied to go to Survey he would
brand him a coward. We all applied for Coast Defence and without
exception we were posted to Medium Regiments. These units had guns of
4.5-inch or 5.5-inch diameter barrels, the largest mobile units in
the Army. It was with the 125 that I played one of only two games of
cricket throughout the war. It was a trial game, Officers v Cadets, to
find a team to represent the Regiment. Although we were officers we
were not admitted to the Mess (we were billeted in hotels) but we were
included with the officer instructors to swell the numbers. Three of
us played. We did not bat well. When I went in at No 7 to join "Jimmy"
- I can't recall his surname, he was a member of of E Troop - we were
24 for 5. In the allotted overs we did our best to make a respectable
total. Jimmy was in his eighties and I had, I think, 55. Fielding was
no better until Jimmy went on and he took six wickets of which I caught
four at silly point. About this time the whole unit moved to Ilkley where
we were again in hotels. We were surprised to find that neither of us had
been selected to represent the Regiment.

During the first week I met Lieutenant Kent who seemed to be in
charge of cricket and he told me to be ready to leave for the match at
a certain time. I told him I had not been selected. He then said the
staff had realised it was a long weekend, Whitsun I think, and some
wanted to go away, hence the need for Jimmy and me. I told him quite
forcefully that we had realized the date sometime ago and we had both
made other arrangements. Jimmy was taking his car to Bristol to lay it
up for the duration, and I was going to Leeds. Kent tried the seniority
lark (he had two pips being an instructor), but I was adamant so he
concluded by saying "Do you have to wear your hat at that angle?" I
replied "No, but I like it that way." How the team, or indeed Lt Kent
fared, I know not.

One little incident I can recall from my time at Ilkely: a Lady Starmer
adopted the Cadets (and we were included); she organised a library service
and ran a dance most Saturday nights. Nigel, the one who designed our
dinner menu, was a very large, ginger-haired man. Sober he was a gentle
giant but get alcohol inside him he was a monster. At one dance he made
himself a nuisance, so we organised him into a taxi with instructions to
the driver to take him to his hotel, the Stoneyleigh. On the way, Nigel
discovered he had no cigarettes, so he told the driver to return to the
dance. When the driver refused, Nigel threatened to flatten him. On his
return, he fell flat on his face in the middle of the floor which was
very noticeable as there was no dancing at the time. He rose and went to
the bar and ordered from Lady Starmer a scotch and twenty Players. The
Lady tactfully declined to serve him, saying the bar was closed. Nigel
banged his fists on the counter and said he would keep the "so-and-so"
bar open as long as he wished. It took four of us to get him into the taxi.
The next morning I walked to the Stoneyleigh as I had either been orderly
officer on Saturday or I was on duty on Sunday. Jimmy Brittain and I often
got mixed up. I was just above him in the passing out list but he was
before me alphabetically. Whilst talking on the lawn, the adjutant
arrived and demanded to see Nigel Mould. I had to box clever as I was in
mufti, not allowed as an orderly officer, and one was not allowed out
on the street at any time so attired. Fortunately, Jimmy Brittain took
control (he was resident at Stoneyleigh) and took us to Nigel's room,
where we found him asleep on his bed in the nude. The adjutant aroused
him with his cane, stood him to attention still starkers, and put him
under arrest. Apparently Lady Starmer was a friend of General Adam of
Northern District Command and the phone wires had been busy early in
the morning. The General was very kind to Nigel and gave him a reprimand
and advised him to get posted abroad as soon as possible.

At the completion of our course, we were again sent on leave to await
a posting. I was posted to the 4 Medium Regt at Ringwood. It was a
disgusting Regiment, morale was as low as it could be. When retreating
to Dunkirk with their heavy guns at 5 to 10 mph all the officers fled on
in advance leaving the men to their fate. The guns were blown up on
reaching Dunkirk and the only officer who remained with the Regiment
was killed on the shore. He was the Survey officer and was a hero
to the troops. The others when they returned to the Regiment were
despised by the men. I arrived in the middle of a sherry party, taking
place on the lawn in front of the officers' mess, a large guest house
cum hotel which also had civilian guests. I soon entered into the
spirit of the thing and had a good introduction to my fellow officers
and their lady guests from the town.

I got talking to a major. Odd for a second lieutenant, but I knew him
from local government pre-war. He was TA, which accounted for his high
rank. The time passed and I got very hungry as I had only 3 bottles of
light ale for my lunch which I consumed with a fellow officer on Waterloo
station. The major said they never had dinner on sherry party days,
usually going on to Southampton if the booze ran out. Saying he thought
it might be getting short, he went into the kitchen and came out with
a full bottle of Plymouth gin. We sat on the garden roller by the tennis
courts and talked until we had consumed the whole bottle. I had no
thoughts then of eating and only wanted my bedroom pointed out to me.
Someone pointed to a window on the front facade, and I attempted to climb the
virginia creeper that clad the wall. This is all as reported to me the
next day. I was told there were stairs and my room was the second on the
left. They either forgot to say, or I misheard, it was the second floor.
I went up one flight, then the second on the left, and fell upon the
bed. I woke up next morning feeling quite OK. I was dressed in my pyjamas,
my tunic was hung up and my clothes neatly folded on a chair. In the
dining room a maid was surprised I wanted breakfast, I was the only one
present. When I started on the cornflakes I thought that the staff must
have had high jinx as well, as they tasted of Plymouth gin, but when the
bacon, eggs, toast etc, all tasted the same I realised it was not the food
but my taste buds. This persisted for 2 or 3 days and I have not had the
courage to try Plymouth gin since that day.

I was the only officer on parade and when I handed back the battery
to the Sgt Major he dismissed the two Troops and then said to the HQ
section which remained, "A new officer here wants a batman, two paces
forward for any volunteers." Normally on such occasions one could expect
one or two to step forward, probably on "jankers" and hoping to get off
pack drill, etc. About half of the section stepped forward, such was the
morale of the Regiment. The Sgt Major detailed one and turned to me and
said "He is no bloody use, but he will suit you." Actually he was right.
He was a reservist who when serving had spent the whole of his time as a
batman (no proper soldiering). His boss was Lord somebody and when they
both were retired before the war be became the Lord's valet. On
mobilisation the servant was called back to the colours but not the
major. The servant was absolutely lost having to serve in the ranks,
but he was jolly useful to me. He had a habit of collecting more from
the laundry than he sent, and looking at the various laundry marks on
my shirts one would conclude I was a well-travelled officer.

My job was Wagon Line Officer, which meant I looked after the stores
and the transport, also as we had no barracks I was responsible for
billeting the men in private houses in the town. My predecessor would
draw money for this on Thursday morning and pay out all day Thursday
and Friday with a few to do on Saturday. I was finished by mid-morning
on Friday. I wonder why he took so long with the grass widows of the many
naval troops who come from Ringwood. We were still receiving vehicles
to replace those lost at Dunkirk. They were generally not army vehicles
but any old rubbish they "bought up". They broke down and you could not
get spares. I got so fed up one day that I rang the Ordnance Depot and
demanded to speak to the officer in charge. I gave him a good wigging,
implying that he was making a fortune by collecting anything from scrap
dumps. He was most upset and said, "Do you know who you are speaking to?
I am the colonel in charge of this unit." When he paused for breath, I
said, "And do you know who you are speaking to?" Reply, "No." I said
"Thank Christ for that!" and rang off. I knew I was in trouble if he
had the guts to answer my charge that he was supplying rubbish.
Fortunately, something happened that diverted attention elsewhere.

For some reason or other, the officers of the Regiment were given 3
days extra leave every year, I think it was something to do with events
in India when the regiment was serving there. They took it all together,
and as I was the most recent recruit I was left in charge for the three
days. I was to occupy the adjutant's office full time, sleeping there
and only being relieved for three 1-hour periods for breakfast, lunch
and dinner. It was very boring. It was the last day, I think, Sunday,
when the phone rang. When I picked it up all I heard was "Blackbird,
blackbird, blackbird." Even I was intelligent enough to realise it was
a coded message, but what did it mean? I had no files, as they were
locked away. No use ringing Corps HQ as they had probably sent it. I
rang the Home Guard on a local land-line we had with them. I turned and
turned the wretched handle until a sleepy voice answered "Have you been
trying long? Had a party last night, so we were a bit late signing on."
They did not know the answer to my question, but promised to ask around.
Later they came back and said they thought it was the codeword for the
invasion of the UK, but they were checking with their HQ, at Southampton.
Some time elapsed before they came back to me, "Yes old boy, it's on,
the balloon has gone up. Good luck old chap, good luck."

I had only one phone number, that of the adjutant who was having a
naughty weekend in Christchurch. I knew it wasn't his wife as she had
rung up earlier from Richmond in Yorkshire.

He returned very quickly and started to get the Regiment into action.
It had to be in action some distance away in order to bombard the
coastline should the Germans land.

A depleted and sorry-looking Regiment went off quite some time after
they should have left according to the sealed orders and by the time it
arrived it was discovered to be a false alarm and they all came back
looking more unhappy than ever.

I had remained in the adjutant's office which was fortunate as I
received a posting back to a survey regiment. Such was the efficiency of
the unit they would probably have lost it. I was so pleased to get away
I did not wait for transport but caught a Green Line bus to Amsbury and
taxi to the School of Survey at Larkhill. There I met up again with Pat
Tucker and after a day or two briefing we were sent to Eythorne, a
village about 5 miles inland from Dover. Here we were to join the Sound
Ranging Battery of the 1st Survey Regiment, which was deployed along
the Kent coast from Deal to Dungerness. The task was to locate the
German guns on the French coast who were being such a nuisance to
shipping in the Channel and to Dover and the surrounding area. We were
met at Shepherdswell station by Lt Butterwell who did his best to paint
the CO as an ogre. He even had us taking off our boots before walking
past his bedroom door - it was about 2 a.m. Our bathroom backed onto
the CO's room, so Pat agreed with me not to pull the chain of the WC
until the morning.

We were up promptly and much to our surprise greeted by a very
affable CO who insisted on Pat and I being served first with breakfast
as we had arrived first. After a couple of days, Pat I think was posted
to West Base and I to Centre Base. The Battery was split into 3 Troops,
one at each base, A Troop with HQ at Eythorne, B Troop (Centre Base) at
Sellinge between Folkestone and Ashford, and C Troop (West Base) at
Appledore down in Romney Marsh. Pat may have been with me at Sellinge,
for it would have been difficult for him to get from Appledore when we
played squash at the Conservative Club in Ashford. The Battery had been
hastily enlarged and deployed soon after Dunkirk and as the Battle of
Britain was raging things were a bit topsy-turvy.

A little about sound ranging might be appropriate at this stage. If
you have two listening points on an accurately-drawn grid such as an
Ordnance Survey map and a gun sound is recorded at both points such that
the time interval between the sound reaching both can be recorded, then
it is possible to draw a certain curve and the gun lies somewhere on that
curve called a hyperbola. If we now have a third point and the time
interval between points 2 and 3 is found, we can draw another hyperbola,
and where the two curves intersect that is the gun's position. It was
usual to have five or six positions to get greater accuracy. The gun
sound was recorded by using fine wire in the form of a grid through which
a small electric current was passed. When the gun wave strikes the grid
the wire is cooled, the resistance of the wire increases and the current
passing is reduced. The wire is in a circuit reaching back to HQ. The
change in current is recorded in a complicated apparatus (my excuse for
not explaining it) with the result we have another wire suspended in the
jaws of a strong electro magnet. When there was no sound and therefore
no change in current the two magnetic fields - the magnets and that
surrounding the wire - are in equilibrium. A change in current in the
wire, the balance is disturbed and you get a kick in the wire. The wire
is photographed on a continuous run of film, so when it kicks it is
recorded on the film. The film has time intervals photographed on it
so that by filming all 5 or 6 circuits on the one film the time intervals
between the sound reaching the listening posts can be read off and
plotted on a gridded board. To avoid having to plot curves, the
asymptote to the curve is used, an asymptote being a straight line
which touches the curve at infinity, the two practically coincident at
the distances we were at. There were corrections to be made for wind,
temperature, etc. For this we used graphs. In peace time there were
50, but we got down to a more practical 12 in war time.

If you are clever enough you can get a lot more information from the
film recording of the gun sounds, but to do this we had to call upon
Professor Bragg at Cambridge University. One of our officers was on the
staff at Cambridge, so we were well-positioned to provide any information
required. The guns installed by the Germans at Calais etc we knew to be
quite advanced. They could fire many rounds with sustained accuracy,
and over a long range, 22 miles and more. Another method of finding out
about the guns was to examine an unexploded shell, but uniquely they
all seemed to explode. It can be 3 out of 10 do not go off with
normal guns.

For Professor Bragg we collected three lots of data from one firing
on a single film. The gun sounds, the shell wave (when the shell
accelerating away from the gun broke the sound barrier - a la Concorde)
and the fall of shot at the target. From this he calculated the length,
weight, ballistic coefficient etc, but he was anxious to get it confirmed
by the recovery of one. The 100 per cent record was a mystery to us. One
day, however, we got news that one had been found on the beach between
Dover and St Margarets Bay, and the Royal Engineers were recovering it.
By this time I was adjutant at Eythorne and Col Eastwood and I went
hell for leather along the beach only to find the shell dangling over
our heads as it was being hauled up the cliff face. We hastened back
and drove along to where a white-haired Captain was supervising the
hauling in of the shell. It really was ironic. He and his men risked
their lives every day in bomb recovery, but he was just like an old
hen with chicks, telling his men to be careful, he did not want them
falling over the cliff. Once landed, Uncle pulled rank on the Captain.
Before the Captain could touch it, I sat astride it, measuring it up
and noting all the markings etc, and Uncle sketched all the details.
Professor Bragg was 100 per cent correct. The mystery of the near
100 per cent explosion was simple when one knew. There were two fuses,
one to activate on impact, and a second timed to go off a second or two
after impact. Had I known that I would have put my ear to it to
ascertain if it was ticking.

I took up the post of Adjutant and Quartermaster to the unit, which
had been split from 1st Survey Regiment and called the 1st Independent
Sound Ranging Battery, on [Sunday] Nov 17th 1940. My
predecessor was a bit slap-happy having won an MC at Dunkirk. The only
money we handled (apart from men's pay) was a "Imprest" account. On
this we could spend money, so much per month, on such things as cleaning
materials, labels for blankets, shoe repairs, and something I never
understood, an allowance for cake for the Sergeants' Mess. The items
were specifically mentioned, and expenditure on other things forbidden.
"Tubby" took no notice and bought such things as a kettle for making
tea for the office, a cycle tyre repair outfit. "Pay no attention," he
said, "we are at war, it will never be audited." Within one month of me
taking over, the books and receipts were called for. The only thing I
could do was to get a close friend at each base to get some blank bill
heads from the girl in the village store and write out some for Vim,
soda, etc. I wrote out a new account book and some invoices for HQ
on bill heads from the local Post Office. After I had sent them off I
realised some invoices and the account book had been in my handwriting,
and the account book going back before I took over the job as Adjutant.
I had a very uneasy six weeks until the book came back with certain items
I had left in ringed round in green ink with a warning not to repeat the
offences. The same thing happened with vehicle work tickets. These give
details of all journeys, petrol consumed, etc. They are not used in
theatres of war, but we were classed as home forces. I again prevailed
on friends in each Troop to provide me with the necessary records going
back to the time immediately after Dunkirk. One Troop Commander refused
to play, or was just incompetent, and after many requests the CO (Uncle)
was being threatened with a demand for payment for petrol used. I could
not stall any longer, so I put all I had into a tea chest to be sent
off. The BQMS made out a movement order for them to be sent from the
East Kent Light Railway in the village and not from the Southern Railway
on the main London to Dover line. I found out the reason many months
later when the BQMS (now a Lieutenant Quarter Master) was about to be
demobbed. His driver knew the porter in charge and to help him,
weighed the tea chest, got a signed receipt from the porter, and put the
tea chest in a closed wagon for him. The wagon was at the end of the
line, and the chest was pushed across the wagon and a second man took
it off into a closed van. On return to camp the whole lot were burnt.
I could however produce the receipt when we had a further demand some
weeks later. I was very suspicious when I asked why Eythorne Station,
and was reminded by BQMS Bissell that a recent Army Council Instruction
had ordered a tightening up on petrol consumption (he would be the last
to bother about this). He later became our Lieut Quartermaster in the
9th Survey. I think "Uncle" secretly realised his "talents" and did
not mind profiting by them. Bissell's driver Gunr Baker was a
self-confessed burglar. When I asked him why he did not say that was
his job on joining up, he said it was not accepted and the second thing
he thought of was taxi driver. When we had a spate of petty thieving
in the camp, Baker was accused. He came to me in great indignation.
"I don't rob my friends, that would not be right. I steal from old
ladies in Tunbridge Wells who don't always miss it they are so loaded."
On setting a trap - a marked 10/- note - the thief was found to be a
man thought highly respectable with a double-barrelled name:
Wilson-Hasley.
I got him posted. For ever after he was known as "Wilson f--g hyphen
Hasley". I learnt after leaving the Independent that Baker finally got
caught, fortunately acting on his own behalf and not the army. We were
changed over to fresh milk and as Baker always collected our rations
very early in the day, the milk had not arrived from the farm. He said
he would collect it at 3 o'clock. This was too late for the staff who
wanted to be either in bed or out of barracks by this time. It was
agreed a side gate be left open. This was "open sesame" to Baker. He
was found to have a garden shed in the village full of tinned food. I
was pleased I had left as I felt certain I would have been asked to be
his defence council.

Now, in 2002, I wonder, how having lead, I feel, a fairly blameless life,
I allowed myself to get caught up in the shady deals. Perhaps it was because
that sort of thing was endemic in the whole army, so what was one to do?
Often, you were ordered to carry out the crime by a superior officer;
refusal to carry out an order would itself be wrong, eg supplying petrol
from army vehicles. It seemed that the only recognised crime was to be
found out, and probably the reason that a long service and good conduct
medal was recognised as "21 years of undetected crime". If you cannot
beat them, join them. I rest my case.

Life at Eythorne was very restricted, Uncle wanted nothing more each
evening than to play Mah-jong. Paul Dykes would only compromise by playing
Monopoly on alternate nights. There was no social life as Uncle would not
allow women around. One seldom got out as transport was a problem, and I
as Adjutant was expected to be by Uncle's side at all times. I don't
suppose I spent much more than 3 or 4 evenings at home on the farm. Work
was interesting at first, but one soon got into a daily routine 7 days in
each week. This was very noticeable once we had fixed the cross channel
guns and with Cambridge University found out their secrets. Nothing - or
very little - seemed to be done, such as taking action to put a stop to
their firing. The four guns which we had under command of the Royal
Marines seemed quite useless. They fired few rounds and then were worn
to such an extent that they could not reach France. I heard of no
bombing raids into the French coast, we heard nothing of them attempting
sabotage on the guns. There were units in Dover who carried out raids on
the French coast. We occasionally drank with them in the pubs in
Dover and learned how they sometimes had to leave men behind. They were
quite confident however they would pick them up on their next raid.

I got quite restless. Before the war overseas travel was very limited
and I saw an opportunity to see some of the world at the army's expense.
I had little to attract me in England. After the war I could see that the
furthest I would get would be three or four days at Blackpool as an
extension of the Municipal Engineers Conference. Every time I volunteered
Uncle turned it down saying that I was uniquely qualified for a unique
one-off job and my talents should not be wasted as cannon fodder in
India or elsewhere.

I had hopes when Uncle was posted to the 9th Survey Regt in Durham,
but he was succeeded by Major Meigh from the School of Survey. Although
a headmaster of a London school he had a long association with the
army going back to the First World War. Unfortunately for me he had
the same idea as Uncle about my leaving. Life however was not as spartan
and we got around a bit more and even entertained some ENSA girls in
the mess after they had done their show. Harry tried to run the battery
like a school which did not go down too well with everyone. In one
thing he annoyed me intensely. Any idea I put forward he would turn it
down but a few weeks later he might put it forward to our troop
commanders' weekly conference as an original idea of his, and I had to
sit and listen in silence. Socially however we got on quite well except
that I had to change to bridge every evening. The only concession I
won was not to play for money, just points.

Sometimes, when making a visit together, on our return we would drop off
in Dover, have a cup of tea and go to the cinema, coming out in time for
a drink, then bus back to Eythorne in time for dinner. On one occasion
he came to Canterbury on a Thursday when I went to collect the money to
pay the battery on the Friday; he wanted to get a haircut. From Canterbury
we went to Sellinge (Centre Base) for a meeting and had lunch there. In
Dover we dropped off to have tea and the cinema. On going into the cinema
Harry asked me about the money. I told him Smith the driver had it
and he will give it to Cameron, the pay clerk, to put in the safe.
"Cameron has a key?" "Yes, to guard against me losing mine." This so
worried Harry, or perhaps it was the film, he pulled so hard on his pipe
that it burnt through and ruined his trousers and gave him a nasty burn.
Without stopping for a drink we caught the first bus to Eythorne and I
was dispatched to check on the money. I found it in Cameron's desk. He
had left the office before Smith arrived. I put it in the safe and
reported "all was well". It was not good enough for Harry. After that
I had to hand the money to the guard for safe keeping overnight. In
my opinion a much more risky business, as the guardroom was isolated
at the end of the drive some distance from the house, but that was Harry
showing his authority.

I did not spend too many weeks playing bridge, as in February 1942
Uncle got me posted to his regiment. Strange how it was no longer
essential for me to remain in the Independent now that he was no longer
in charge. I joined the 9th Survey Regt at Coxhoe, a mining town about
6 miles south of Durham. After being briefed I was posted to the
Sound Ranging Battery which was situated way up in the Pennines some
22 miles south-west of Coxhoe at Middleton in Teesdale, about 3 miles
down river from the famous High Force waterfall, and about 9 miles
north-west of Barnard Castle. I was not popular at Middleton. It was
quite obvious that I was considered a plant by Uncle to assist him in
trying to bring the regiment up to his requirements. In truth it was in
a pretty bad state, especially the Sound Ranging Battery. In charge was
Major Farrow, an ex-ranker who had risen to the highest rank of
Warrant Officer Class I. He also held a most important post of AIG
(Assistant Instructor Gunnery), very high profile with red bands in
their hats and in fact did all the instructing. What part the junior
officers played I know not, but they were held in very low regard by the
AIGs, and the feeling was mutual. And Uncle found one, now a
commissioned officer and one of his seniors. Not a very happy state,
and it did not help that Farrow was not a very efficient battery
commander. In fact it was chaotic. C Troop commander had left (I took
his place) and the troop was just left to rot. Capt Cleaver (one time
friend at Filey and Ilkely) had D Troop, and it seemed all the officers
and men. He (Chopper or Gil) was to my mind much under the influence
of a Lieutenant who thought he should have had my job and things were
just not right. On arrival a very small and rather scruffy lieutenant
set off over the snow-covered terrain to introduce me to my troop,
which should have consisted of about 100 men. I saw the stores with
one man and some billets - empty, the vehicle park - some very
sad-looking vehicles, and then I was taken to my office. This was a
very bare-looking place with no fire even though it was several degrees
below freezing. There was no-one around, then little Willy Wright said
"Well that's that, I am now returning to D Troop," and off he goes
leaving me alone. I waited around and a Lance Sergeant appeared and said
he was Lonsdale and had just returned from his honeymoon. Apparently
I said to him, and he often reminded me "Well that means you will be
no bloody use to me for the next fortnight, but you can start by getting
a fire in here and an orderly to look after the place and at least keep
the fire going." Gradually more men appeared from the woodwork and I
had some sort of troop. The two officers assigned to me had both been
sent on courses, I think to get them out of the way. They could have
stayed away, as they were quite useless on their return. I found a junior
sergeant (Sgt Holmes) hidden away in HQ, someone Uncle had posted from
the Independent and then forgotten about. I promoted him No 1 of the
troop and he remained with me until he was demobbed. The recalcitrant
lieutenant was posted and Cleaver and I got together again and as the
battery's two senior officers began to pull it into some sort of shape.

Things improved at least in our relations with Regt HQ when Major
Farrow was posted. Adjutant Humphrey was promoted to Major in charge
of our Battery. He was a young keen regular soldier who had gone from
a boys' boarding school directly into the army and knew nothing of life;
in fact I did not have a very high opinion of him. He was a senior officer
in a Survey Regiment and could not read a map. It was reported that when
adjutant he was leading the colonel around Bedford when Uncle snatched
the map away from him saying "We have passed that pub over there three
times already." It did help enormously to have a CO who was pro-colonel
rather than anti, and Humphrey was very pro, a good amplifier. If the
colonel said PT to be done every day, Humph would say "PT every day at
six o'clock in the field in bare feet." Similarly if we were ordered
to march 13 miles in two hours we would be told to do it in full pack
and fight a battle at the end of the march. After a period of training
we were kitted out to go overseas but whilst on embarkation leave
apparently the colonel of the 8th Survey convinced the War Office that
his regiment should go before the 9th, so we returned from leave to
find everything cancelled and we were to be a training and reinforcing
regiment. What a waste of time and money. I do not think anyone was
too disappointed as we were all very happy in Middleton. Throughout the
war I don't think any village had taken a unit to heart as much as
Middleton, practically every soldier had his feet under the table somewhere.
Humphrey was about the only exception, being something like Uncle he was
lost in the company of females. Chopper and I teamed up with the two
daughters from the Talbot Hotel and had several pleasant weekends in
Newcastle; we stayed at the Red Lion and the girls with an aunt at
Jesmond, all very correct. I recall dining in a well-known restaurant,
the Criterion I think, where there were little private dining rooms
for 4 to 6, rather like old-fashioned stalls in church. Should you order
a mixed grill, it was served on two plates, they rather liked their food
in the North of England. In time we began to hear rumblings that we were
to join 1st Corps which had been selected to be the spearhead of the
attack on Northern France. The first signs of our new role was a
reorganisation of the Sound Ranging Battery which took place in February
1943. We were made up to full strength and a switch took place. I
with Sgt Holmes still as No 1 went over to D Troop and Chopper took
over C Troop. Why it worked like that I don't know. After a little
wheeling and dealing I found myself with a very good troop.

With Sgt Holmes I had two excellent sergeants as next in line. Sgt
Watkins - a schoolmaster - was well suited to the more static role in
charge of HQ with the recorder and the plotting gear. He worked well
with the more technically-minded sound rangers. The field sergeant was
Sgt Drinkall?, like me a militia man, who took his trade test with me
at the beginning of the war at Larkhill. A very quick and sound fellow
who took charge of the survey work and getting the microphones into
position. These three were the backbone of the troop, I could not have
wished for anyone better. I did not worry too much about who my two
lieutenants were to be, but here I was lucky. Little Willie who
introduced me to the battery in 1942 took over the HQ with Watkins.
With a university degree in maths he was a wizard in looking after the
recorder. He rather treated his men as playmates which had to be kept
in check, but he was extremely popular. In charge of the field section
was Charlie Simpson. Before being commissioned he had been my
sergeant-major when I was training at Larkhill. Sometimes I think
he thought it not a good thing serving under someone who had taken
orders from him, and he had a bit of a chip on his shoulder. His work
however was excellent, and I do not know of anyone as a surveyor who
had a better appreciation of ground than Charlie.

After about sixteen months at Middleton the inevitable happened. At
the end of April the whole regiment got its marching orders to join 1st
Corps in Scotland, and our resting place was to be Alyth, a small town
in Perthshire about twenty miles NW of Dundee. Here we had further changes.
We were no longer to have three batteries, one for surveyors one for
flash spotters and one for sound rangers. There were to be two Batteries each
containing one survey, one flash spotting and one sound ranging Troop.
I with my D
Troop was to be in B Battery still under Major Humphrey. This was a much
more logical split as the two SR units never worked together being
allocated to separate divisions (a division being the next split down
from corps). Tactically the troops almost always worked away from the
regiment, coming under command of the Divisional General. In fact during
the invasion I must have worked under almost all of the divisions in
the British army and also with the Polish division and an American
one the 72nd Timber Wolf Division and some sort of Jewish brigade.

We spent our time up to the beginning of December in Scotland preparing
ourselves for the assault on France and getting used to operating in our
new formations. We had a little distraction. D Troop was sent down to
Moffat to survey an artillery range. It took a fortnight of very
strenuous work, I was up at first light (May time) and did not get to
bed before midnight as I had a certain amount of admin work to do after
surveying was stopped for the day. On completion I gave the boys the
option of rushing back or leaving the next day on a leisurely drive. They
chose the former. Arriving at about 4 o'clock I was immediately drafted
into a 7-a-side rugger tournament being held in the village. I was very
tired, but also quite a fast runner, and when we reached the final after
about three games, everyone was about spent. We had a Rugby League player
who proceeded to flatten the opposition. He could not run but gave the
ball to me and I ran in about five tries. On the final whistle I collapsed
to be dumped in a truck, taken to the mess and put in a bath with the tap
running and left until I could find the strength to get out. What
strenuous effort fighting wars demands.

Another little episode occurred which was so secret we were not told
where we were going, and no maps. We were just told "You will be working
hard day and night so do not take any smart kit, just overalls." I was
not to be parted with my possessions, so I took everything. An escort
of Military Police lead us from Bellahouston Park in Glasgow through
the mean streets until we reached an isolated stretch of the River
Clyde. Three or four LCTs (Landing Craft Tank) drew into the bank and the
bows came down and formed a ramp and we loaded up. Each one held, as far
as I can remember, something like six vehicles and fifty or sixty men.
After a long trip down river we landed on an equally desolate shoreline,
mountains, heather and not a crofter's hut in sight. We drove along the
coastline and gradually found civilisation to end up in the harbour of
a small town. We were told it was Rothesay on the Isle of Bute. It was
a bright, warm, sunny day and the world and his dog was on show all in
their Sunday best. Apparently it was holiday week in Kilmarnock and it
was not at all like war time. The officers were billeted in a hotel with
civilians and I swear we had cream cakes for tea. There was no tea time
orchestra, but two girls, both around 19 or 20, entertained us on
the piano and violin. It was interesting to watch the antics of the
married officers flapping around the girls, turning their music over
and generally being a nuisance. Between tea and dinner, Griff (the only
other single chap) and I indulged in our own strategy, and it was a joy
to see the expression on the faces of the married men when after coffee
the four of us (Griff, I and the two girls) got up and said we were off
out. Did they have cinema on Sunday in Scotland? I was pleased I had
brought all my kit with me.

On the Monday we learnt the purpose of our visit. It was to prepare
us for the assault landings from ships. Basically we drove down a ramp
at the bow of a LST (Landing Ship Tank), about the size of a cross-channel
boat, into a maximum of 3 to 4 feet of water, and then we drove the vehicle
under
water to the shore; try to avoid the pot holes, you might disappear.
Other joys included scrambling up and down nets, rowing large boats, in
fact anything to get us extremely wet.

In the harbour was a submarine mother ship with 4 submarines. One we
were told was the "Thetis", renamed I think "Thunderer" after being
salvaged from her disastrous sinking on her trials just before the war.
She was reported missing while we were at Rothesay. Between rowing boats
on the beach were large cigar-shaped objects which we were told were
one or two man submarines. To cap it all on the promenade there was a
photographer snapping everything in sight and handing out cards which
said "Get your holiday snaps from the Hole-in-the Wall after 10am
tomorrow." I had a photo of me walking hand-in-hand with Molly (the
better-looking of the two sisters). Over time it seems to have
disappeared. Perhaps Lena objected to the hand-in-hand bit. I wonder
what she was doing in the WRNS at that time? After this pleasant interlude
Molly returned to work and I and the rest of the party rejoined the
regiment.

With more toughening up schemes, the "assault party" was introduced.
The idea behind these words was this. It was realised that in the event of
the troop taking an early part in an invasion it would be impossible for
the whole troop to be landed at once (all disciplines would be required
at the start). Therefore the troop would have to be thinned out to about
40 percent of its full strength consisting of men necessary to get the
troop into action and to keep it going without reinforcement for I
think up to four weeks or until others arrived in various waves. After
several trials the SR assault party was generally made up of 44 men with
six vehicles. We continued to train on these lines until the 9th November
[1943] when we said goodbye to Alyth. We travelled south to our last resting
place before venturing on the assault of northern France.

It took some time as we called at several places, principally to
call on Canadian gunnery regiments. It had been decided that tactically
we were to form part of the 3rd Canadian division who with 3rd British
division were to be the two parts of 1st Corps who were to be the
advanced formation of the assault by British troops. Later when Montgomery
came from the Middle East to take charge of Operation Overlord as it
became known, he wanted to involve his precious 30 Corps which he had
commanded in Africa, and the whole scheme was redrawn with 30 Corps on
our right next to the Americans and 1st Corps took the left flank with
airborne troops on our extreme left.

It was our battery, B Battery, which was to work with the Canadians.
A Battery was to be with 3rd British division. At the same time the
whole regiment was under command of 1st Corps Troop. Quite a tricky job
for Colonel Eastwood.

We finished our travels at Fairmile Common, a large area of scrub land
next to the A3 (London to Portsmouth) about two miles SW of Esher and
three miles NE of Cobham, in Surrey. The camp was Nissen huts placed
randomly among the trees and undergrowth, and frequent were the cursings
with men wandering around to find their hut in the blackout. At Cobham
things began to sort themselves out in real earnest, ready for the day
which was to come. I found that my troop (D Troop) was working more and
more on its own, and I began to feel much more responsibility for the
100 or so troops under my command. A sobering thought. We honed our
skills in waterproofing our vehicles and equipment and testing our
driving and the waterproofing in a large pond on the common. Vehicles were
loaded and weighed, small schemes were carried out to ascertain if we
had packed what we needed and if we had enough consumables to last for
4 weeks without replenishment. On one scheme one truck crashed into a
tree and the driver Callick was fatally injured. It was not a happy time
for me attending his cremation and meeting his wife and young children,
particularly when she fainted on seeing her husband, and all this because
her father-in-law thought she should have one last look. I had my brandy
flask but I still had to almost carry her into the crematorium.

It was not all work. A good number of my troop came from a TA unit
in Durham and they enjoyed exploring London. A lot of the others seemed
to live in or around London so the trains from Esher and Oxshott were
well used. The first time I arrived back at Oxshott I had not walked the
area before and it was a severe test of my ability as a surveyor to find
my way across the heath after a cursory look at a map before leaving
camp. Weekend leave was restricted to one-third of the troop at any
one time. I did not enquire too deeply into the workings as my thoughts
were that in a few weeks time we may all be blown into oblivion, so
let's savour the moment. At the time I did not appreciate how extensively
the boys had interpreted my thoughts. The Battery Orderly would make out
two sets of passes. When Lt Wright appeared in the office he was asked to
sign the weekend passes. Then later Lt Simpson would be asked to sign the
second set. Then No 1 Sgt could sign day passes for men not on duty, and
if both Saturday and Sunday were free one could have virtually a week-end
pass. The place must have looked a graveyard. Fortunately, Uncle's
Regimental HQ was some three miles away so his afternoon walks did not
extend to Fairmile. Major Humphrey was probably doing his press-ups.
As for me, I was seeking to get away from the dull routine in a pub in
Esher, now fortunately demolished and built over. The landlord owned
a boatyard on the Thames which had been taken over by the navy. He took
a pub, and to drink, and became an alcoholic, who was then taken off at
intervals to be dried out. He lived with his girlfriend and I befriended
her daughter. I thought it would be scary when Pet was taken off with me
the only male around. The potman came in the morning to do the cellar
work. The place was always seething with Canadian soldiers, but when
they knew the score they were as good as gold, no tales of the limey
officer being beaten up by Canadians in a pub brawl. In fact I remember
one about 6ft 8in tall lifting the clock from the wall so that I could
adjust it to summer time.

It was a pretty relaxed time and Christine and I spent many hours
cycling around the area (me on her mother's bike) visiting friends,
drinking innumerable gin and oranges (tonic was not available) in the
local pubs and at the Upper Deck, a swimming pool and club at East
Molesey, with I think a little bit of a reputation.

A Mr and Mrs Large kept the Bear at Esher (both very large) and I
used to annoy the landlady by asking for a further gin in my glass as
I could not taste the berry. One day she banged both bottles on the
counter and said "Help your bloody self, I can never satisfy you".
In those days there was no need to pander to customers.